


Unmasked

by zzinvolterra



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Seduction, Ballroom Dancing, Carlisle may have other kinks, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Honestly he just has an Aro kink, Jealousy, M/M, Not very graphic smut, Praise Kink, Pre-Canon, happy 2021, lots of endearments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzinvolterra/pseuds/zzinvolterra
Summary: Carlisle Cullen had a plan.  He would show up late, maybe join in for a dance or two, and leave as quickly as possible.  All he had to do was ignore the cascading dark hair, the smooth curve of an arching back, the playful gleam in those brilliant eyes as they sparkled behind the inky black mask.Damn.
Relationships: Aro/Carlisle Cullen
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	Unmasked

**Author's Note:**

> I had to choose between finally starting the fic I've been plotting out for a week or writing a random smutty scenerio.
> 
> Guess what happened.

His reflection glared back at him mockingly as he pulled at the seams of his extravagant costume…which was fair. After all, Carlisle was the one stuck going to the ball, and at least partly responsible for not stopping this hare-brained idea when he had the chance.

It had been Aro’s, of course. The brunet had flitted into the library a few weeks ago, back from another trip to somewhere, excitedly speaking about his latest travels. Unfortunately, for himself, as it would later turn out, Carlisle’s attention had been primarily focused on his friend’s hands, fluttering through the air in infuriatingly interesting ways, rather than his words.

And, of course, this is when Aro would decide to tell him about his plans for a masquerade ball.

Damn.

Carlisle gave one final tug at his sleeve before giving up and walking towards the bedroom door, slipping his ornate mask on. Not that it would disguise him from any other vampire’s sharp senses, but it was supposedly part of the fun. As he walked through the hallways and descended the stairs, the sound of soft steps, the swish of fabric, and the quiet babbling of voices grew louder. As did the fluttering in his stomach, traveling up to his chest and grabbing tight. Pausing outside the ballroom to adjust the mask one last time, giddiness swept through him before he pushed down the quivering feeling and entered.

Whoever had arranged the decorations had done an excellent job, he thought. Cream silk hung in billowing cascades from the ceiling, flowing outwards from a crystal chandelier, as it draped to cover the stone walls, giving the place an almost ethereal feel. Most of the vampires were in the center of the grand ballroom, feet and clothes skimming the ground as they spun in each other’s arms. The rest drifted on the outside or were pressed together in the darker corners of the room. Everyone, dressed in every shade imaginable and a few others, seemed to be moving in time to the rhythm of the orchestra, who were stationed on a raised platform. Carlisle raised an eyebrow. Apparently, vampiric musicians existed and were as skilled at playing as they were at everything else.

He scanned the room for someone familiar as he made his way over to one of the walls. Only a sea of clay masks glanced back at him. The fluttering feeling died down to rest heavily in his stomach, and he adjusted his sleeves again.

A moment later, he felt a tap on his shoulder and twisted around to come face-to-face with a pair of red eyes framed by a lilac mask.

“Are you okay, Carlisle?” Corin asked, concern scrunching up her delicate face.

“Oh yes, I’m fine, thank you,” He smiled quickly, feeling simultaneously caught off-guard and relieved.

What he could see of her face looked unconvinced. She gestured at the center of the room. “Dance with me?”

He opened his mouth hesitantly before closing it and nodding.

She grabbed his hand and led him to the edge of the dancing group. They adopted a standard waltz position, mimicking the rest of the vampires as they swayed back and forth. Before long, he felt his shoulders unclench and relaxed into Corin’s soothing presence.

When the music ended, he squeezed her hands and whispered his gratitude as she smiled with self-satisfaction and left. Body at ease and thoughts significantly calmer, he returned to his spot at the wall, opting to watch the crowd for a while.

A flash of black amidst the sea of bright colors quickly grabbed his attention. The striking shade was the dark hair of a graceful figure, and it swirled in the air bewitchingly, shadowing his every move. The man danced with a woman in green, moving in perfect synchronization with her as they executed far bolder steps than Corin and he had dared. As he dipped her and she dipped him back in turn, hair nearly sweeping the floor and back curving divinely, Carlisle realized with a start that the man was Aro.

He turned away from them as another song ended, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. Then, and he would later assume the tightness in his chest, the dying swell of the music, and stupidly daring air of excitement had brought it on, he had an idea.

Turning back around quickly before he lost his resolve, he searched for the elegant figure and spotted him standing next to a pale man. He quickly made his way over to them.

They turned around to look at Carlisle as he approached, one face immediately breaking into a smile, eyes crinkling with fondness, as he registered his identity. The other’s mouth scowled. With a brief word in some ancient language, the latter disappeared, leaving only them.

“Carlisle!” Aro exclaimed. “How wonderful it is to see you. You look absolutely lovely.”

“As do you,” He paused, nerves beginning to knot his stomach as he suddenly blurted out, “Do you- would you care to…dance? With me?”

“I would be delighted to,” he responded, amusement clearly coloring his voice.

Carlisle was suddenly glad he could no longer blush. He blinked and then grinned, leading them to the outskirts of the group again. Falting slightly, he took Aro’s gloved hands in his own. Their fingers threaded together, thumb caressing pointer as their palms slid against one another.

Moving slowly and cautiously but as one, they danced round and round in a tight circle.

“I was afraid you would decide to skip,” said Aro.

“I nearly did,”

He hummed. “Better late than never,” he said, stepping closer to rest his head on Carlisle’s shoulder. “I’m very glad you didn’t.”

He swallowed.

Damn.

His rash idea of dancing,  _ not seducing _ he scolded himself, twisted with the rest of his head as the familiar scent of old books and something sharp invaded his senses. As did someone else’s scent, he noticed, lip curling while he unconsciously stepped closer as well, until it was less of a dance and more of a swaying embrace. Touching more than they ever had.

“Yes, well, you have been insisting that I attend more of these events,” he said, cursing himself for the sudden wavering in his voice.

“This one especially. Most of our kinds’ gatherings-” Aro broke off delicately. “They’re similar to human gatherings in some ways, often centered around a meal.”

He grimaced. “And this one isn’t.”

Aro hummed affirmatively.

“How did you convince Caius to let you mess with the  _ statu quo _ then?”

He swore he could feel Aro grin into his shoulder. “It’s a diplomatic and strategic opportunity, dear, meant to build connections with other covens rather than simply satisfy our animalistic hunger.”

Carlisle chuckled. “I don’t think dawdling with me is very useful.”

Aro pulled back to gaze at him, eyes gleaming as he looked up to stare at him piercingly.

“I don’t mind though,” Carlisle licked his lips instinctively. “And I don’t believe you do either.”

Aro smirked at him, grin transforming into something much sharper and dangerous before he lowered his head back down, pressing against Carlisle’s front more firmly than before.

Carlisle didn’t realize the song had ended until the weight on his shoulder left, leaving him oddly cold. Which, along with the sickly sweet smell that belonged to neither of them yet still hung in the air,  _ must  _ have led to his second rash decision.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?”

Aro looked surprised, a rare expression for him that Carlisle savored before his gaze swept up and down boldly in ways that left him tingling.

“Lead the way,  _ caro _ ,” he said lowly. The roll that accompanied the addicting word made his head swim and Carlisle pushed down the rising fluttering in his stomach once again.

They walked down a hallway, for once not speaking. Carlisle felt Aro pressed against his side, closer than either had dared to be before. Their arms interlocked while their legs kept brushing one another until he could hardly stand it anymore. Third rash decision.

One moment later, Aro was pinned against the wall, back arching against the cool stone while his eyelids fluttered behind the velvet mask.

“May I?” Carlisle asked, finger trembling as he moved to take it off. Aro hummed once again, eyes slipping closed while he gently removed the mask, leaving Aro’s face bare.

And then Aro was kissing him. His arms threaded around Carlisle’s neck, skin nearly brushing skin through the thin cloth, as he pulled him down to him. Carlisle moaned into his mouth while his hands moved to brace himself against the wall, mask forgotten and discarded at their feet.

“ _ Aro _ ,” he gasped, oddly out of breath despite not needing to breathe.

Aro pulled back with a whine and flashed them down another hallway, so quickly he couldn’t register anything but the man leading him.

Turning the knob impatiently and wrenching open the door, they stumbled inside Aro’s quarters. Carlisle kissed him messily as they made their way to the bed where Aro tangled his hands in his blond hair and purred into his mouth, sending prickling shivers down his spine.

His hands moved from the curve of Aro’s waist up to his chest, undoing the first button on his top before pausing.

Aro’s mouth moved to his neck as he groaned. “Keep going,  _ tesoro _ .”

He whined, his hands fumbling to undo the rest of the buttons quickly, gasping as Aro pressed kisses with a hint of fang to his neck. Quickly pulling the shirt off him, Carlisle’s hands returned to and roamed Aro’s now bare waist, curiously brushing the pads of his thumbs down over the delicate curve of his hips and up again to the smooth curve of his stomach. His head involuntarily arched to one side, exposing more of his pale neck to Aro’s ministrations.

The brunet flipped them suddenly, resulting in Carlisle being the one pressed against the bed. Then he was laying on top of it, and Aro was straddling his stomach and pulling off his gloves. He threw them off to the side, instead focused completely on the man pinned beneath him.

Carlisle shivered, and he smiled down at him softly, the same fondness that graced his features more and more regularly shining through his gaze as one corner of his mouth quirked. Soft hands reached up to stroke Carlisle’s face, who immediately curled into the simple touch.

“That mask must be extremely well-made,” he mused, and Carlisle realized with a start that his was still on.

He moved hastily to take it off, but Aro’s hands covered his own, stilling their movement momentarily before, palms gliding almost warmly to the tops of his own, he helped him remove it. Then he leaned forward to press a soft kiss against his forehead, brushing their growing arousals against each other.

Carlisle arched off the bed, dangerously close to begging. “ _ Aro _ .”

Aro shifted back to rest on top of him once more. When he didn’t move fast enough, Carlisle made his eighth rash decision (ninth, tenth, he’d lost count and didn’t quite care anymore). He thrusted upwards, barely skimming the swell of Aro’s ass.

“Want you now,” he moaned, growl rumbling within his throat.

Aro’s eyes darkened instantly. He pressed himself against Carlisle and firmly sucked at Carlisle’s neck again, far more fang slipping in this time. Some nips were accompanied by slow hip rolls, grinding down, eliciting moans from both that interrupted the near silence and vibrated against his neck. Soon, Carlisle was whining and writhing against the sheets.

“Use your words, darling,” Aro purred into his ear, breath ghosting along the side of his neck.

“Need you, Aro,  _ please _ ,” he choked out, threading his hands through the long dark hair, messing up the perfect locks the way he had wanted to for so long.

Aro pressed kisses down his covered chest then stomach, stopping right above where Carlisle needed him most. He made his way back up and ran a single finger from the side of Carlisle’s neck to the bright hem that adorned the neckline. Glancing up at Carlisle who nodded eagerly, Aro pursed his lips for a moment, looking frustrated at the lack of buttons. Then he ripped the entire shirt in half.

_ Damn _ .

Carlisle let out an indignant noise, trying to ignore how the exquisitely sinful image of Aro poised over his now ruined top, bare chest gleaming and hair in disarray, was making him burn.

“You hated that shirt,” Aro replied absentmindedly, all of his attention focused on running his hands down the newly bared skin.

An unexpected laugh burbled out of him though it was quickly cut off with a gasp as Aro finished exploring his top half and moved further down, brushing his hand against the straining fabric.

“Flip over, my dear. Please?” Aro said pleasantly, absurdly put together once again as his hand rubbed small circles into Carlisle’s inner thigh. “I would very much like to fuck you into this mattress,”

He hurried to do just that, turning over to rest on his stomach. Aro bent down and brushed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t rip the pants,” Carlisle said, voice muffled by the pillows. He felt Aro chuckle into the small of his back then brush against the top of his pants, nudging him until he lifted up his hips, allowing Aro to pull the rest of his clothes off.

The weight returned to settle on top of his hips now, slowly rocking back and forth. Bare legs pressed against his own. When did he finish undressing, Carlisle wondered, before he heard the sound of liquid sloshing and felt something press against him.

“Relax now,” Aro murmured. A thin slicked finger pressed against his entrance and paused before it pressed in slowly. “ _ Cara mio _ , how does it feel?”

“Strange,” he responded. It had been a long time since he had been with a man, and he barely remembered the sensation. Aro moved and  _ oh _ ! His eyelids fluttered shut as he sank into the bed, hips thrusting up as he pressed into the touch, chasing another brush.

Aro moved above him, and soon, Carlisle’s quiet bliss turned into choked whines.

He added more as Carlisle slowly adjusted, stroking his spine and rubbing his hip with his free hand. And then there was nothing inside him at all.

Carlisle whimpered into the bed, cruelly empty until he felt Aro press against his entrance and then press into him, inch by inch. The feeling burned.

After a bit, he wasn’t quite sure how long, the burning retreated into a wonderful fullness. Aro brushed a hand through his disheveled hair. “ _ Mio dolce _ ?”

Carlisle nodded into the pillow, speaking into the pillows. “I’m ready.”

And then Aro began to move.

Carlisle moaned as he hit that spot, again and again, hands grasping and pulling at the rumpled covers. He thrusted into the mattress, biting and gnashing the pillows in an attempt to stifle the constant groans and whines, becoming more undone by the moment.

Above him, Aro was stroking the contours of his back, the dips of his sides, and anywhere else he could reach. An increasingly intelligible stream of Italian then Greek then some other languages babbled from his lips.

Carlisle gasped as he neared the edge, rutting and grinding. He was so  _ so _ close.

He turned back to glance at Aro with what was left of his strength. Aro, who was all fluttering eyelids, tousled hair, panting mouth.

Aro, who focused on him and breathed, “Come for me,  _ amore mio _ .”

And Carlisle fell over the edge, vision whiting out.

A wet cloth was brushing across his stomach when Carlisle came to. He curled against the dip in the mattress, against Aro, automatically, which prompted a snort from the other man.

“You’re going to be quite uncomfortable,” he said but set down the towel anyway.

Carlisle rolled his eyes and shifted closer to him, resting on his chest. With Aro’s hand caressing his back, his own reaching around to pull them closer, and enveloped in the comforting scent of old books and something sharp mingling with a scent he distantly recognized as his own, Carlisle couldn’t help but disagree.

**Author's Note:**

> The day after, Caius approaches Aro. "Brother, why the fuck did I find your mask trampled in the hallway?"
> 
> Fun fact: 'Statu quo', also known as 'Status quo' (High School Musical, anyone?) is a Latin phrase that means the existing state of affairs, particularly in regards to political or social matters. It was first recorded in 1825-35, and this is set in the 1600s. Oops.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and that you have fantastically wonderful 2021. Happy New Year!!


End file.
